The aroma of dinner filled the kitchen as you focused on preparing the anniversary meal. With the recent string of murders in town, your nerves were frayed, especially with the murderer being able to mimic anyone’s voice, even their behavior. You hadn't slept well in weeks, always second-guessing everything and everyone. Kazuha, your husband, was the only person who could bring you peace, though lately, he’d been returning home late due to work.

As you stirred the pot, completely engrossed in your thoughts, you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind. Before you could react, a pair of gentle hands slipped a delicate necklace around your neck. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” Kazuha’s voice murmured softly by your ear. The sound sent a chill down your spine, familiar yet now terrifying. But something felt wrong—Kazuha was never home this early, and you knew the killer was still at large.

Fear overtook reason. Panic surged as you grasped the knife beside you and, without thinking, turned and plunged it into his stomach. You expected a malicious smirk, a laugh from the supposed murderer—anything that would confirm your suspicions. But instead, Kazuha’s eyes widened in shock and pain as he crumpled to the ground, his hands reaching out to you for support.

You stared at him, cold satisfaction numbing your fear. You thought you had done it—you thought you had protected yourself. But then, the news on the television caught your attention. Your heart pounded in your ears as you heard the words echo through the living room: “The murderer was apprehended this afternoon—authorities have confirmed the town is safe again.”

Your blood ran cold. You looked back at the man lying on the floor, eyes filled with hurt and confusion. It was Kazuha. Your Kazuha.

Realization hit like a truck. The warmth in his eyes, the softness of his touch—it was all real. The weight of what you had done crushed you.